


In Sanity

by maersknation



Category: Original Work
Genre: Contemplative, Crazy, Dark, Death, Existence, Health, Insanity, Mental, Psychological, Question - Freeform, Questions, Sanity, existing, insane, life - Freeform, normal - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 17:04:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16122944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maersknation/pseuds/maersknation
Summary: "The hardest part sometimes is the not knowing. The constant guessing and worrying while trying to figure out what's going on. It's almost like standing at the edge of a cliff and all it'll take is a split second for everything to change; where you either fall, or you don't. And sometimes you stop, and you wonder how you even managed to get to this point. How you managed to be standing here at this edge. They say that there is a very thin line that separates the sane from the insane. The normal from the crazy. The lucid from the confused. But, if I were to be honest, I'm not even sure where my own sanity lies anymore. But, is anybody really? Is there really someone out there who is 'sane'? Who is 'normal'? Or... are we all just crazy?"





	In Sanity

Why? It's the simplest of questions but requires the hardest of answers. It's a question that exposes the very depths of one's soul. It exposes thoughts and ideals and personalities. It has destroyed people from the inside out. It has plagued the minds of countless people. It has tortured mankind since the very beginning. This one word. A simple three letters. Why? Because isn't that the question that we all are truly asking? Isn't that the very reason we exist? Aren't our lives just a continuation of that one question? Why? It's a question that I seem to be asking myself a lot these days. Why? Someone is bound to know the answer. Someone has to know.

_The house was a simple one. A simple two-story house that held a wife, two children, and a dog. See? Simple. In that house, there was an order to things. Everything was to be kept in its place, including the people that resided within it. How else could one keep order in such a hectic life?_

I had a friend once, a long time ago, and I decided to ask him why. He told me that, "The hardest part sometimes is the not knowing. The constant guessing and worrying while trying to figure out what's going on. It's almost like standing at the edge of a cliff and all it'll take is a split second for everything to change; where you either fall, or you don't. And sometimes you stop, and you wonder how you even managed to get to this point. How you managed to be standing here at this edge. They say that there is a very thin line that separates the sane from the insane. The normal from the crazy. The lucid from the confused. But, if I were to be honest, I'm not even sure where my own sanity lies anymore. But, is anybody really? Is there really someone out there who is 'sane'? Who is 'normal'? Or... are we all just crazy?" I still don't know what he meant. He's dead now and I still don't know why.

_Everybody has a job that they have to do. Everyone has_ some place _that they need to be. The people who are bustling through the streets of the city, the constant honking of the horn, the shouts, the yells, the sounds; yes, there is always some place that they need to be. They spend so much time doing that they never truly stop and think. That they never really stop and wonder. Everybody always has to be doing something._

A lot of people always assume that my question is unfinished. They stand there and look at me and ask "Why, what?", but don't they see that the question itself is the answer? There are so many things that are encompassed in that one simple question. So, many possibilities. I had a mother once. I decided to ask her why. She told me that, "I never really thought about the why as opposed to the how. I've never really cared about why things are the way they are. No, asking myself that would've just driven me insane. Can't nobody possibly know the why. But, the how on the other hand, people can figure out the how. They can break it down and put it back together again over and over and find out the how. But, trying to find out the why? No, I ain't never worried myself over a why. I have no interest in getting all strung up in my own mind. Constantly wondering over every little nuisance of the world. No, wondering why ain't nothing I'm going to worry myself over. I won't be driving myself crazy. No, sir. I'm staying away from that insane nonsense." She's dead now, too, but I still don't know why.

_Cars have made life so much more bearable. They allow people to get from one place to another with ease. You can even transport things other than yourself. You can move things and animals and people all from one place to another. It's quite easy to do so. Of course, there are rules that are involved with cars, but nobody ever follows all of them. They're just guidelines that give us a general idea of what we're supposed to do with one. No, cars are easy. They're simple._

Nobody ever really asks why. But, everyone thinks it. I know that they do; even if they refuse to admit it to themselves. Everybody wonders why. Who wouldn't? It is such a fundamental question that it is impossible to even continue on without stopping to ask. There isn't a single soul who has never asked why. It's just not possible. It's not feasible in the slightest. I had a brother once. I decided to ask him why. He told me that, "The why isn't the question, little brother. It's not even the how. It's the what that's the real question you should be asking. Who cares about the why and the how if you don't have a what? If you want to know how something works, you first gotta have that something. You've got to have the what. I mean, even if you're asking about nothing, that's still something. Nothing is still a what. No, there isn't a point to asking without a what. Only some crazy fool would ask about something without a what. And I'm not a fool. I ain't crazy either. No, little brother, you need a what before a why." He's gone now, and I still don't know why.

_Everyone has that small, dark corner of their mind. It's all a part of being human. That little dark corner of our minds that holds all of our secrets, our deepest thoughts, and our greatest desires. It's where the topic of our guilt lies. It's where we hold all of the regrets and things that we wish that we could change. It's someplace that we constantly try to avoid out of fear that we might discover who we actually are underneath all of the fake personality that we plaster over ourselves. Yes, everyone has that small, dark corner in their mind._

"Do you know why, ma'am? Is there any reason you can think of or is there anything you might know to help us out here?" There it is again; the why. There's an answer to it. I know that there is. I think I...I think I used to know. Or maybe I just thought that I did. I had a wife once. I decided to ask her why. She told me that, "I'm just tired. I'm tired of having to live like this! I wasn't made to live a life where every single moment of my life has to be planned! I'm tired of having to deal with this every single day; day in and day out. I just can't do this anymore. I'm not going to do this anymore. I refuse to put up with your crazy antics and paranoia about everything. And I refuse to let my children grow up thinking that their father is batshit crazy and has lost his mind. No, I'm done here! I'm done with all of this!" She's gone now, and I still don't know why.

_Grief is a funny thing. If you've ever really thought about it, what purpose does grief serve? What's the point? Grief is just a psychological signal that something that was valued has gone away. But, that can be known logically. Someone knows that one moment they have and dog, and the next it's gone. That's known. So, what's the point in grieving? Is it because of the sense of abandonment, of loneliness, of loss? Well, who cares? Grieving isn't going to make the dog come back. The dog is still going to be just as gone as it was before. The mother is still gone. The friend is gone. The brother, the sister, the job, the house, the car, the cat, the wife, the love; they're all still gone._

Some people don't take it very well when I ask them why. I think that it's because they don't know the answer either and my asking reminds them of that fact. It's such a simple question that stumps so many people. I think that's really what makes them upset. The not knowing. Mankind always likes to have a reason for everything. It gets scared when it stumbles across something that it doesn't have the answer to. But, how am I supposed to find the answer if I never ask the question? How can I ever truly know if no one is ever willing to say? I knew a man once. I decided to ask him why. He told me that, "You need to get lost, dude. If I ever see you creeping around here again, I'm calling the cops. Do you understand me? Nobody wants to see your weird ass creeping around here. You're scaring off the clientele. Alright? I don't really care why or how or anything else you decide to come up with. The only thing I care about is you walking away down the street and never coming back. So, why don't you go ahead and get moving? Go. Bye." He's gone now, and I still don't know why.

_Existence is a funny thing. You either are or you aren't. You're either here or you're not. There isn't really an_ in between _when it comes to existing. How does one even define existence? How can you know whether you are here or you're not? What if you are really 'there' but only assume that you are 'here'? How does something cease to exist and what does that even mean? Some people say that you stop existing the moment you stop breathing; when you stop living. But, then what is living? Is living the same as existing? Can you exist in a state where you aren't living? Existence is truly a funny thing._

"We're not seeing any response anymore. He's not in there. I'm sorry, ma'am, but he's gone. We think that the swelling caused by the accident was just too much for his brain to recuperate from. I really think that you should consider pulling the plug. Right now, the only thing here is a corpse artificially breathing." I wish that I could ask him why. I'm sure that he'll have a good answer. How could he not? I knew a woman once. I decided to ask her why. She told me that, "I'm so, so sorry! I didn't even see you there. Oh my god! I'm calling 9-1-1. Just hold on, okay? I swear you just seemed to come out of nowhere. Please be okay! Geez, you can't just be walking around the street at night. It's hard for people to see you. The ambulance is on its way. Just hang on." She's gone now, and I still don't know why.

_Contrary to popular belief, darkness is one of the most peaceful things that one will ever be able to experience. It's something about it that is just so calming. Nobody has ever been afraid of the darkness. There are some people who are afraid of what may be in the darkness, but nobody is ever afraid of darkness. There is something about it that is just so intriguing. Something that is enticing. The darkness, the nothingness, it's all so wonderful. There's nothing in nothingness that can hurt you. There's nothing in nothingness that you can lose. There's nothing in nothingness that you have to worry about. The darkness is such a peaceful place._

A lot of people like to leave. I've noticed that. I don't know what it is that makes them do that. Leave, that is. I've never really understood the point. There's a lot of people who like to do that though. It's such an odd thing. I really don't think that it truly accomplishes anything other than completely changing someone's life. But, who would want to do that? I don't think that it is beneficial in the slightest. I knew a dog once. I decided to ask him why. He told me that, "Sometimes I just need to get away. I need something different in my life. It's hard just eating, sleeping, and pooping all day. I want something different. I can't get that if I continue to do the same thing and think that I'll get something different out of it. No, I'm not insane. I know better than to keep trying something that clearly isn't working. I'm not crazy. I can be a good boy and still have some kind of a life. Sometimes I just have to get away from all the weirdness going on here. No offense." He's gone now, and I still don't know why.

_Living is a strange thing. It just seems like an endless cycle of the same thing. You wake up, eat, do something, eat, do something else, eat, go to sleep, and start all over again. It can almost seem dull in a sense. What is the point of being subjected to continuing on in this endless, and incredibly pointless, loop? No, there has to be some kind of purpose. Some ultimate goal that has to be achieved. There has to be some reasoning behind this continuous loop._ _Living is a very strange thing indeed._

I've never really had a problem with loneliness. It's only when I'm alone that I allow myself to think, to question, to try to discover. It's hard to think when I'm constantly bombarded by people and animals and questions and wants and needs and everything else. No, it is much better to be alone, where I am the only one whose question requires answering. Loneliness is one of the things that I value most. I knew a fish once. I decided to ask her why. She told me that, "All you have to do is swim back and forth. Don't try to go up and don't try to go down. Just back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Don't worry about anything else. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. None of it matters. The who, the what, the when, the where, the how, the why. No. Just keep going back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth." She's gone now, and I still don't know why.

_Death is an odd concept. It's almost as odd as life. You go on living in this continuous loop of pointlessness and then, suddenly, it all just stops. That pattern, that loop, finally comes to an end. But, what is the point in continuing on in a loop knowing that it will inevitably come to a stop? There are those people who say that they want to live forever, but what purpose would that serve? Is there really even a purpose or do they just enjoy the continuous loop of life too much to want it to end? Those people are the hardest to understand. What could one possibly gain from continuously doing the same thing over and over while hoping for a different outcome? Is that not the very definition of insanity?_

"Are you sure? There's nobody who would like to come and say goodbye? There's nobody at all who would like to say a few final words before we do this?... If you're sure... Okay. That's it. I assume that you'll be handling the funeral arrangements?" Now, I'm just left here wondering why. Why the perfect house? Why the job? Why the car? Why the dark corners of a mind? Why grieve? Why exist? Why the darkness? Why live? Why is there death? Why is there the sane and the insane? Why is there the normal and the crazy? Why is there the lucid and the confused? Why are there friends? Why are there mothers? Why are there brothers? Why are there wives? Why, why, why? Why? I knew a man once. A man that lived in a perfect house with a wife, two kids, and a dog. A man that had a mother and brother. A man that knew men and women and dogs and fish. A man who liked to be alone. A man who always wanted to know why. A man that asked everyone that he came across. A man who was searching for the answer to a question that cannot be answered. A man that did the same thing every single day, hoping against hope that he would find something different. I knew a man once. I decided to ask him why. He told me that, "I still don't know why. Does anybody really? Yes, someone has to know. Someone has to know why. I have to know why. How can I rest without knowing? How could I possibly ever devote my life to anything else? How could I possibly have room to care about anything other than finding out why? Someone knows why. I feel it. I know it. And I'll find them. I will. One day, I will find out why. What about you? Do you know why?" He's gone now, and no one knows why.

Do you?


End file.
